A Corpse They Called Disgusting
My stepsister, Chloe Sterling, framed me for leaking business secrets at the family's charity gala.
So, my three older brothers locked me in the airtight emergency panic room of our estate.
I pounded futilely against the heavy alloy door, begging them to listen to my explanation.
Before activating the lockdown procedure, my eldest brother, Griffin Harrington, a Wall Street legend, pierced me with his icy gaze:
"Cora, you betrayed the entire family. You can stay in here and reflect on what you've done!"
My second brother, rock superstar Jasper Harrington, and my third brother, genius painter Myles Harrington, added coldly:
"After everything we've done for you, you still dare to defend yourself? Just stay in there!"
With that, they swept a "frightened," trembling Chloe under their wing and headed straight for their victory party.
A thunderstorm knocked out the power, and the air circulation system failed right after.
I felt every breath was like swallowing hot glass, and eventually, my life faded away in the suffocating darkness.
Three days later, when my brothers returned from New York City with Chloe, they finally remembered me.
They had no idea that I had long since died of suffocation in the very tomb they'd built for me.